


Stolen

by nupoxsi



Category: Ylvis
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest, teen!ylvis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/pseuds/nupoxsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s <em>something</em> that keeps driving Bård to do things he never thought capable of doing. And that <em>something</em> has a face, a voice, a name.<br/><em>Vegard</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I've managed to finish it just on the line for the end of the MMoM Challenge! Oh, Uni has been draining me alive. But okay. As usual, all my love to [Abigail](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kolaflor/) who not only is a wonderful beta but also kept me motivated to finish this one. And well, she's just a wonderful friend.  
> Bård is around 15 in here (quite similar to his age in one of my other works, _Senses_ , so be aware of this while reading this work. 
> 
> Disclaimer: this isn't real, all of the following is but a work of mere fiction. Typos/grammar mistakes are my own.

On his way back home, rushed steps lead him to bump against someone as he walks on the pavement. His mind is somewhere else, lost in his own thoughts, but he forces himself to snap back to reality in mere seconds. Worried, Bård searches for the person he almost knocked down to the floor. A woman old enough to be his mother, who carries groceries on a bag immediately looks up at him. She wears a moss green shirt, the colour making her eyes look even greener. Bård keeps his arms crossed over his chest while he stares at her.

“Oh— I’m sorry, I—” He stammers, feeling embarrassed for almost making her fall.

“Don’t worry, boy. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” The woman furrows her eyebrows together, the green in her eyes darkening. “Your face looks slightly pale.”

For a brief moment, he feels frozen in spot. People pass by them without eyeing them, everyone minding their own business. Yet all of the sudden Bård feels everyone is observing him. Automatically, his grip on the item he keeps beneath his jacket tightens, hoping no one is able to get a glimpse of what he carries in there.

“Allergies,” he lies unhesitatingly, forcing out a smile. He hides his hands inside his jacket, keeping his arms  crossed on his chest. “This weather doesn’t favour me very well.”

The green-eyed woman doesn’t seem to buy his weak alibi, though she still smiles back at him. “I hope you get better, kid. Have a good afternoon.”

“Good day, ma’am.”

After he speaks, Bård resumes his fast walk, not daring to look behind his back. With a neutral expression, he strides down the street, passing by random people and never taking his hands out of his jacket. He’s only four blocks away from his house. He can do this.

Truth is, Bård doesn’t know what drove him to do it. He doesn’t even know how to come up with an explanation as of why he found himself walking into the small sex shop. Curiosity, perhaps, an unnamed interest on what the peculiar store had to offer on their shelves. His eyes were big as plates ever since he entered the place, shifting between bottles of lube, flavoured condoms, provocative lingerie, among other things. In the end, he only walked into one of the five hallways, and a particular item in store catching his attention.

Without giving it a second thought, Bård grabbed said item and hid it under his brown jacket. It was the first time he did something like that, but there wasn’t room for hesitation. He simply grabbed it, hid it, and decided to go out of the sex shop. He tried to collect himself afterwards, and none of the two ladies that worked in the shop noticed him. As easily as he walked in, Bård managed to get past the front door, still hiding the object whilst he rushed down the street. It was way too easy.

He gets home some minutes later. The front door is locked, so he takes one of his hands out of the jacket to look for his keys. He manages to open the door and walk in without much trouble, and yet he feels the need to inspect the room before daring to turn around and lock the door at his back.

“Hi?” He calls out loud, feeling quite nervous to get a response. Though after some seconds, only silence prevails in the place.

Moving further into his house, Bård finds no one in the nearness. He takes a glimpse at the clock on the living room walk. Perfect timing. It’s Friday, and, to his liking the house will be empty for for a couple of hours until Vegard gets back from rehearsal. He’s got a leading role in this play, and for that he needs to stay a little longer in the theatre. That gives Bård some hours all by himself.

 _Perfect_ , he thinks.

Still carrying the small box on the inside of his jacket, the young man skips some steps on his way up the stairs. There’s a small flame burning on the pit of his stomach that can be described as excitement, although he also reckons there’s a slight fear that comes with having the object at his disposal.

A slight ticklishness takes over his body while he walks on the narrow hallway. He stands in front of a wooden door, and without doubt, he enters the room. The small place isn’t foreign to him, every corner reminding him of the owner. He is greeted by a huge map of the world plastered on the wall and a collection of planes magazines over the desk. The room screams Vegard’s name. Even the way the old guitar leans against the desk has Vegard’s name on it. However, Bård doesn’t have time to pick it up and play something. Instead, he crosses the small distance until he stands by the bed. Once in there, the excitement becomes greater, his heart pounding hard inside his ribcage. With his free hand Bård reaches to grab Vegard’s pillow, taking it in hand before crossing the hallway again and heading to the room across from Vegard’s. It isn’t the first time he takes it, anyway, and he’s quite certain it won’t be the last.

Bård closes the door to his own bedroom. The soft click of the lock echoes through the deserted room, and soon the sound is followed by the soft thud of his sneakers being kicked down to the floor. He throws the pillow on his bed, the brown pillowcase contrasting against his dark blue bedsheets. Now in his comfort zone, Bård retrieves the plastic box from his jacket, taking it in both hands. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, replaced by utter excitement. His eyes widen at the sight, the corners of his mouth curving upwards, the feeling inside his belly burning and stirring the more he inspects the sex toy.

Part of him feels like he should regret what he’s done. _Vegard would probably hate me for it_ , he realises. Not only because he stole it, but because of what he plans to do with it. This is wrong. And yet, the other side of his brain, the one that’s controlled by the carnal impulses shushes his concerns.

There’s a reason for which he grabbed the dildo back at the store, the same reason he bought a small bottle of lube the week he turned fifteen, the same reason he wakes up hard and aching in the mornings. More than just a reason, it’s something concrete. There’s _something_ that keeps driving Bård to do things him never thought capable of doing. And said thing has a face, a voice, a name.

 _Vegard_.

He concentrates back on the item, inspecting it. Back at the sex shop there wasn’t a large variety from which to pick. However, Bård’s eyes soon caught the sight of one that promised to be quite interesting. Or well, one that resembled what his brother would look like if he was fully grown. Bård has shamelessly fantasised about it for some time now, and having something to compare Vegard with wakens a dark and lascivious feeling in his insides.

His cheeks burn at the thought of seeing his older brother naked with a hard on. While it’s true he has seen him without a single piece of clothing in his body several times in the past, Bård reckons that Vegard must be larger when fully erected. _Larger and thicker_ , he corrects himself. Still, he tries to picture him, standing in front of him with no clothes on. Vegard has gotten so much fit in the last months, getting curves in all the right places. His thighs have gotten thicker, his back broader, a faint stubble appearing on his face if he forgets to shave. And not only that, the last time Bård saw Vegard wearing nothing but boxers, he noticed the small trail of dark hairs creating a path down to the front of his underwear. The thought of Vegard in such state makes his stomach stir with lust, his cock now starting to harden inside his pants.

Bård walks towards the bed, placing the see-through plastic box over the mattress. The curtains are shut, the lights off, a dim atmosphere swallowing the remains of light in his room. With a perfect technique, Bård unfastens his black belt to ease his jeans down, a relieved sigh escaping his lips when his thumb brushes the growing stiffness trapped in his boxers. Hell, he definitely wants more friction. In mere seconds his brown jacket and loosen shirt both join the jeans on the ground, and the socks are soon to follow. Bård undresses himself until he’s down to his blue boxers, an uninvited shiver running down his spine as he shoots the item in his bed a fast glance.

When he takes the plastic box back in his hand, he notices how cold it feels. Bård gets rid of the box almost immediately, his fingers working both fast and precisely on retrieving the plastic package off the item. A short gasp leaves his mouth once he gets to hold the toy in hand, nothing between his palm and the dildo. It’s thicker than his own cock, the round head big in proportion to the shaft. _Probably what Vegard must be like_. He can feel the embossed veins under his fingertips, the material quite pleasant to the touch.

After examining the flesh coloured toy for some seconds, he decides he can’t wait any longer. The urges are hard to resist. Bård keeps it in hand while he walks closer to the edge of the bed. He opens the second drawer of his nightstand, rummaging through some of his stuff to find the lube he keeps meticulously hidden. Not that anyone would suspect he’s got one, anyway. He bought it some months ago, when he suspected it would help him reduce the soreness after he fingered himself. And, hell, he hadn’t been wrong at all. Nonchalantly, Bård closes the drawer to finally crawl on top of the bed, spraying his body across the mattress.

As usual, the first thing he does once settled in bed is lead his hand to the growing hardness still trapped in his boxers. Bård moans when he squeezes on it, biting hard onto his lower lip. He is rather used to the act of pleasuring himself, especially since the house is all to himself. What once brought him much shame now he finds quite customary, something that he has learned to accept. For example, the essential presence of Vegard in all of his thoughts whenever he takes himself in hand.

He remembers the first time Vegard appeared in his mind. It happened little than a year ago, when Bård wasn’t entirely sure of how his body reacted to stimulus. At night, he’d be touching himself and memories of Vegard’s face would play in his mind. Those images were often accompanied by the sound of his hoarse voice, by the idea of his callous fingers over his body, by the memory of his thick thighs. Bård would close his eyes, and if he concentrated enough, even the recognisable smell that impregnates all of his clothing would fill his nostrils. Vegard would be there, present in Bård’s mind, and there wouldn’t be a way to push him away.

And so, after days of trying to deal with the outcome of it, he started to accept having Vegard in his mind. More than that, he greets the memories with great kindness. There is no point in denying the effect Vegard has on him, on his body. He welcomes him in his mind, thankful to have such a vivid memory. The more he allows those lecherous images of his brother to play whenever he touches himself, the more intense his experience turns out to be.

With his head buried on the soft pillow, Bård closes his eyes. The pillow has a distinguished scent, a mix of Vegard’s cologne and something else he can’t quite explain. Bård loves it. He takes in a deep breath, allowing the scent to fill his nostrils.

It’s not the first time he takes Vegard’s pillow from his room in order to have a more vivid experience. Not only it’s easier for him to picture Vegard, but the strokes on his cock feel better, firmer. Having Vegard’s scent so close to his nose makes the fantasies lucid, as if he was truly there. Bård felt guilty when he first took it, but as Vegard never noticed the short absence of the pillow, he kept doing it when the house was completely alone.

His hand keeps keenly rubbing over the fabric of his boxers, feeling the hardness grow until every brush of his fingertips are too much to bare. Both of his thumbs hook on the elastic waistband of his boxers, and Bård gets rid of them with a slow tug. His erection immediately curves against his belly, hard and aching for more. With ease, he takes the boxers off and throws them away, landing on top of rest of the clothes on the floor.

When he finally gets to wrap his palm around his length, Bård swears he sees stars in the back of his eyelids. Stars, and Vegard’s beautiful face. It’s impossible to think of some other than Vegard. His brother is more than just present while his hand starts moving on his length. Giving into the feeling, Bård tries to picture them together, to picture Vegard’s body on top of his own, leaning down on him until their chests are almost pressing together. How he’d like for that to happen, he’d love to feel caged by his brother’s well-proportioned body.

A hot pressure starts building in his lower belly, the strokes on his cock becoming steadier after every jerk. He doesn’t care about being quiet, not today. He lets out brief groans, pumping himself firmer. In a perfect scenario, it’d be Vegard’s manly hands around him, it’d be Vegard’s warm mouth against his own, it’d be Vegard the one making him feel this good. Bård reaches to grab the end of the pillow, pressing it over his face. He inhales all of his brother’s scent in, picturing it’d be his face buried on the crook of his neck.

Bård keeps moving his hand up and down his length, brushing the sensitive tip every so often. It’s only when he feels the pressure tightens that he releases the grip on his cock, precome making his hand slick. It’s true he aches for the warm contact of his fist closed around it, but he’s got other plans in mind— _better plans_. He doesn’t want to rush anything.

Across the bed, he’s able to find the small transparent bottle without problems. After squirting a small amount of lube on his palm, Bård coats his index finger with the liquid, the middle finger following suit. When he’s pleased with the quantity of lube, he spreads his legs on the mattress, digging his heels on the duvet while he props his hips up. Slowly, his hand trails down his side until it reaches his backside, his index placing against the tight entrance. The lubrication helps him press in without much effort, though he still closes his eyelids tightly when he starts easing the first digit in. At the sudden intrusion, Bård hisses involuntarily, his other hand clenching on the blue duvet. In spite of the awkwardness, he still pushes his finger forward, trying to get used to the burning sensation when he draws back.

As images of a naked Vegard getting his hands on him flash in his mind, Bård tries to relax, easing his finger further in. He grunts in frustration, eager to find that spot that brings an ecstatic feeling on his whole body. Soon enough, his long finger starts moving in and out of his entrance with more speed, working it open with help of the lube. His other hand lets go of the bottle of lube to find its way to his throbbing erection, getting a weak grip around it. He gives slow tugs, rather concentrated on working himself open. Promptly, the burning disappears to be replaced by a pleasant sensation each time the finger draws back in, burying deeper than before.

Once Bård has found a rhythm on his thrusting that’s both pleasant and constant, he dares to press another digit in. Without trouble, his index finger slides in alongside the middle one. The two digits make his entrance stretch, but it brings him nothing but pleasure. With his other hand slowly rubbing his erection, his adventurous mind goes back to his brother, to how Bård moans against the pillow, drunk on the delicious scent impregnated on it. He wants Vegard, he wants him so badly— he wants to feel his hands holding him still, his mouth travelling across his body, his cock inside of him. Hell, Bård just wants to feel all of Vegard.

A third finger slides in, the rhythm of his thrusts increasing. He imagines how his brother would work him open as he kisses his lips, preventing him from being loud. Because he knows Vegard well enough to confirm his brother wouldn’t want him crying out in pleasure when they neighbours are home. However, Bård does moan loudly, even when Vegard is not there, even when Vegard is just a fantasy. He curses when he finds the perfect angle, fingertips pressing right against the spot that makes his whole body quiver. He buries his nose on the pillowcase, the side of his face pressed against the warm fabric.

“ _Yes, yes, yes,_ ” he mumbles over and over again, slowly massaging his prostate.

His mind tells him to continue with the motion, but he’s aware that he won’t last long if he does.

With caution, he pulls the fingers out, feeling completely open and yearning for more. In a similar manner, his other hand lets go of his hard cock, which curves right back against his lower stomach, begging for attention. And yet, he ignores it. Instead, Bård opens his eyes to the white ceiling above, and then looks down on the bed, keenly searching for the stolen object. Once he finds the toy, he takes it in hand and brings it closer to his chest. His other hand works on getting the bottle of lube open again, squirting enough in his hand. With eyes wide in expectation, he coats the whole length of the dildo, his cock twitching in expectation every time his fingers trace the plastic ridges.

After he’s done lubing the toy up, he leads it to his already worked opening. The closer he holds the item, the more turned on he gets. His eyelids drop again as his hand gains a tight grip on the base. Bård breathes deeply through his nose, pressing the plastic cockhead against the now stretched rim. Slowly, he starts pushing in, spreading his legs further apart for better access. His hips angle in such way that Bård doesn’t have a problem with the handling of the toy, though he still feels the need to hold onto something as it slides in.

“Holy…” Bård’s breath gets caught on his throat. “ _Fuck._ ”

It’s bigger than he expected. The more pressure he uses to move it forward, the more his entrance stretches to allow more of the length in. Once the full cockhead passes by his rim muscle, Bård feels he’s going to break apart. The toy is thicker than the width of three of his fingers combined, and he hesitates for a moment, feeling how tight he really is around the toy.

He hisses under his breath at the foreign sensation of being so filled up, but he doesn’t cease the motion. Bård bites hard on his lower lip, knowing the only way to make it work is to relax. And so, he tries to. His mind helps him by picturing Vegard pressing the tip of his cock against him, slowly making it slide in. It would feel as good, Bård figures, or maybe even better. It burns him to draw the toy back only to push it back in, but he repeats the motions a couple of times, reaching deeper into himself with every thrust. He gets more of the length into himself with each thrust as well, his walls starting to give in for more. It’s so different from using his own fingers, the feeling of being filled up new and equally overwhelming.

Surprisingly, it takes him a moment, but Bård eventually gets used to the length that keeps fucking him in small yet rich intervals. He establishes a pleasant pace, the once uncomfortable sensation replaced by the pleasure he’s used to. It’s when his free hand finds its way back to the ache between his legs that Bård starts to moan loudly again. The toy goes in and out of him with great care, though it’s also the hand slowly working on the erection that makes him feel this good, pumping the length in a similar rhythm.

It’s one of those times when he’s pushing back in that he forgets how to breathe.

The toy nudges that sensitive spot in him, sending shivers down his spine. Bård pants heavily, angling the plastic cock in order to find it again.

He bets this is how it would be like, this is the closest he’ll get to know how it’d be to have sex with Vegard. And, God, it feels so good. Vegard would probably do it nicer, but every time Bård shoves the toy back in, he feels how the round tip keeps brushing the right place, the one that sends waves of pleasure down his spine and makes his legs weaken.

After finding the perfect angle, Bård doesn’t feel the need to touch himself, he wants to enjoy the full experience. He is so lost on the feeling of being filled up and pleasured from the inside that all he does is close his eyes, burying his face deeper in the pillow as his imagination runs free. Vegard would be so good with him, he’d make him feel like no one would ever be able to. Vegard’s cock— thick and long, brushing his prostate with acute thrusts that would make him whimper. Bård’s hands would reach every piece of skin he could, he’d touch his brother’s sharp shoulder blades, his naked back, traveling down his spine until they found the curve of his backside. Hell, Bård would love to get his hands on his buttcheeks as Vegard drove into him with sharp movements.

It’d be precious, it’d be incomparable, it’d be _perfect_.

“ _Vegard_ ,” he hisses under his breath, driving the toy in and out with a confident grip on the base. He keeps his nose pressed against his brother’s pillowcase, taking in deep breaths of Vegard’s scent from the soft pillowcase.“Fuck, Vegard,” he moans his brother’s name loud and clear when the toy hits his prostate again. “Oh, _yes_.”

In his mind, he still pictures it’s his brother the one that keeps fucking him with more speed and with sharp movements, bringing him closer to the edge. Vegard, _always Vegard_. It’s him the one that makes him reach his climax with a brilliant technique, knowing how to please Bård with all he’s got. Vegard’s callous hands would roam his body, caress his sides as he kissed him and fucked him at the same time, pressing their bodies together in a lustful embrace. He’d cry his brother’s name out, and he’s sure, so sure Vegard would curse softly against his lips.

Driving the toy in and out, Bård feels himself so close, the pressure quickly building in his lower stomach. He leads his free hand to the curved hardness pressed against his belly, closing his fist around it. The warmth of his palm makes him moan, and when he starts to pump himself again he can barely hold back anymore. He strokes himself in constant jerks, matching the own pace he keeps on the dildo. The pleasure is utterly overwhelming, the toy nudging at his prostate with sharp thrusts, his other hand pumping him closer and closer to release.

“ _Vegard!_ ”

Suddenly, it’s all too much to bare. With his brother’s name in his lips and the plastic cockhead nudging at his prostate, his muscles contract and his back curves on the bed, body spasming as an intense orgasm rushes through his body. Bård’s eyes roll to the back of his skull, lost in pleasure. His toes curl, his hand gives fast jerks on his own cock, forcing the hot shots of come out. Most of it lands on his stomach, though his hand also gets sticky white lines on it. Bård curses under his breath, still pumping himself through the orgasm.

He blinks, staring at the white ceiling. His heart is beating like crazy, a thick drop of sweat rolling down his temple. Slowly, he pulls the dildo out, letting it fall flat on top the covers. Fuck, Bård can hardly believe how good it’s been. And it’s all been thanks to Vegard, in a way. While it’s true he’s been able to reach his orgasm alone several times in the past, it’s never felt as pleasant as now, as lucid as it’d been with the plastic cock. Maybe he should be ashamed of what he’s done, but right now all he can think of is how intense everything felt.

As seconds pass by he feels his own cock starting to soften, his pulse losing its elevated pace. The image of his brother’s face close to his own burns in the back of his mind, the cologne on the pillow under his head as intoxicating as before. He inhales, enjoying the ticklish sensation over his whole body as the bliss of the orgasm starts to dissipate.

Once his breathing goes normal and his muscles have started to relax, he realises the mess he’s made of himself. His belly is still sticky, though the traces of come in his hand have started to dry. In the bed, the flesh coloured dildo remains still, getting lube on the blue duvet. Bård smirks at the mess he’s made.

Curiously, his eyes move at the clock over his nightstand, a certain excitement lightening up in his insides once more.

He still has one hour left until Vegard gets back.

Perhaps he’s up for a second round.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably reread this on the weekend and try to spot typos (among other common mistakes). 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this! :)


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